Night call
by SpringSpark
Summary: How should end story of love, which was based on the revenge and passion? What do you expect? Happy final? Broken hearts? Or, maybe, something dark? No, it's easier and worse, and this is the saddest story in the world, because this is our world.


**OK. I never wrote fics before. And I never wrote in English, because I'm from Russia. This is not a real fic, because it consists from the one chapter and doesn't have a real plot. That's what should happen with Captain Swan in my opinion. Nothing sweet, nothing good.  
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**Night call  
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The phone rang in the living room. Emma opened her eyes and looked at the man, who was sleeping next to her. Her husband sighed and rolled over. She smiled and quietly got out of bed, careful not to wake him up. She wore a dressing gown and went into the lounge, asking herself, who could call her on the phone in the middle of night.

In the corner of the room stood a Christmas tree, garlands on it were shone in the dark. Emma came to the table and picked up the phone.

"- Hello?" – She asked.

"- Hello," – answered the voice in the phone. Her heart struck loudly and stopped.

This should never happen again, but it happened right now.

"- Merry Christmas, Emma," – said the voice, which she heard last time in the different life, in the town, which is so far away now.

"- Merry Christmas, Hook," – she replied stilly and closed her eyes.

"- Hah, - he chuckled, - Now everybody call me Killian."

Her eyes were closed, and the room around her ceased to exist. Voice from the past sounded in the darkness of her mind, calm and soft.

"- But I'm not everybody, yeah?" - She tried to joke, but it didn't work.

Suddenly she saw for a moment, how Hook stands, putting his hand on a pay phone, resting his forehead on his hand. She saw his eyes. They were closed too. Two people on the phone, they just were listening the silence, which has absorbed they voices. She winced and asked:

"- Where are you now? We met last time about… three years ago?"

"- New-York. Such a great place for people like me. And you're in Tallahassee. It wasn't too difficult to find you, m'dear," – his short laugh made her face marred by pain.

He said much more words, than her. She couldn't talk in this darkness between New-York and Tallahassee.

"- We both couldn't stay in Storybrook anymore. Not after all we've been through, Hook."

"- Don't call me this name, Emma. Hook was left in the past. Now I have a left hand again. It's called prosthesis. I can even play a guitar, not so good, but I really can, - he suddenly paused and then added with a dry laugh, - But girls love hooks. They find them sexy."

At first Emma couldn't understand what he was talking about. The sounds of his voice made her heart shrink. But then she realized.

Hook without his hook. How terribly strange it is. He's done with his revenge, he skinned his crocodile, and he doesn't need to remind himself about it anymore. As she doesn't need to remind herself about Regina. Regina, who killed Graham. Her apple tree was burned, and Henry was sleeping now in the adjoining room, next to the Emma's bedroom.

He forgot what happened with them.

"- So, now you're a goddamn rock star, who somehow decided to wish me a Merry Christmas in the middle of the night. Great, Hook. Excellent, – she said with a sudden rage in her voice, - If that's all, I need go back to my family."

"- Wait! Emma! Wait, - exclaimed Hook, - Tell me one thing. Do you still have your red jacket? Because this evening I saw one girl. She came in the bar, and she wore red leather jacket. So, do you?"

She paused, holding the phone in her hand.

"- No, Hook. I spoiled it, when we were preparing nursery. I'm… I'm sorry. I loved this one."

"- A nursery? – asked he so quietly, so she could barely hear it, - For Henry?"

"- No, Hook. For our daughter, Mary. She is one year old," – replied Emma, and something awful happened with her: tears came to her eyes. She held her breath, trying not to cry.

This should never happen again. Never ever. But it happened. She stood in the middle of her living room and talked with the ghost of her past. She talked with the man, who disappeared from her life and, how she thought, from her heart.

"- Don't you remember, love, what I said to you in our last night?" – asked Killian.

Of course she do. Their last night in Storybrook, how could she forget?

"- You… You said that our story is the worst story in the all goddamn worlds," – answered Emma.

And the saddest of them all. Because love story couldn't be based on the revenge.

"- I was wrong, Emma. Our story was the best part of my life. It just couldn't have its happy end. We couldn't have our happy end."

She swallowed hard. She understood that he was right. They had to take revenge, and they did it. That's all. Storybrook became a battlefield for them, it wasn't their home anymore. She took Henry, he took his crocodile skin. They fought against sorcerers, this fight burned them both with their enemies, turned their souls to ashes. And when there was a time to make a decision, Emma chosen the father of her child. She thought she did it right.

But now. When it happened again. She wasn't so confident.

"- We were damaged, Hook. We _are_ damaged, – she said at last, - It's about bloody time, right?"

She laughed nervously.

"- However, Emma, I miss you. I miss you so hard, you can't imagine. When I see red leather jacket or long golden hair… You know."

"- I miss you too."

She stood in the middle of her living room, while her husband, son and daughter were sleeping. She stood in the middle of her life and she wanted to shout: "Miss you? I love you, I want you here right now!" So she covered her mouth with her hand. She wanted to shout: "I was wrong!" She wanted to shout: "Fuck it, we could be happy together!" But she didn't.

"- Emma? – she heard his hoarse voice in her ear, - Can I ask you last question?"

"- Sure," - she managed to reply.

"- Why didn't you name your daughter Mary Margaret? Why just Mary?"

"- Because we'll name our second daughter Margaret," – she answered, put the phone down and wiped the tears.

Emma already was back in bed, where was sleeping Neal, when Killian stopped to listen silence in the phone and returned to the bar. The girl in the leather jacket was sitting and drinking behind the bar. Her short dark hair and bright-up eyes were so different from the Emma's hair and eyes. Killian sat down beside her and ordered a whiskey. The girl stared at him and asked:

"-Want to buy me a drink?"

Killian smiled slowly and answered:

"- I want to take off your jacket."

"- OK," - she chuckled in response.


End file.
